


Surprise

by byesweetheart (ConstantComment)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Caught in the Act, Established Relationship, Iwaizumi is his long-suffering boyfriend, M/M, Oikawa is a little too into Japan's new volleyball kits, Sexual Roleplay, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/byesweetheart
Summary: Prompt:UniformsWhen he finally flinched up to peer at his boyfriend, Iwa-chan was staring down at him from feet away, eyebrows not even close to his hairline like he wasn't surprised, just slightly arched in thatYikes, Tooruway he had. His tongue was caught between his teeth like he was holding back themeanestinsult to Oikawa's intelligence as a big bouquet of flowers dangled at his side, giant yellow and orange petals looking a little sad upside-down.Well, they were nearly right-side-up to Oikawa, who was still on the floor, glasses askew and jeans unbuttoned with his tight, dinosaur-patterned briefs exposing his half-hard dick to the world, to his shame, and to Iwa-chan.





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW November, Day Four: You know how Oikawa is said to be really popular with girls and cool and shit, except any time you see him off the court he's kind of a total dork? Yeah, well, here's my Oikawa who is a Hot Mess. But, Iwa-chan loves him anyway.

It was was all Iwa-chan's fault.

Well, honestly it all could be blamed on Japan's men's national volleyball team, or their kit providers actually. Yes, it was all _ASICS'_  fault, because releasing new uniform designs for World Championships, and only unveiling them _at_  World Championships, was a crime, and a lethal, mortal, unethical crime at that, when one had had a terribly stressful workday and was itching for some sort of relief.

The uniforms were red, as usual, but painted with a block of black, diagonal stripes that cut down the players' obliques, over their abs, toward their navels. Black and reflective metallic piping darted here and there in bizarrely strategic places that made you look at the roundness of their pecs, the solidness of their shoulders, the thickness of their thighs. Short shorts with more black diagonals pulled tight when the players jumped to block, ran to slam the ball over the net, or dived to make a tough receive. And finally, _no sleeves._

Usually Oikawa was an ass-man, but these uniforms made him rethink his whole life as he watched the players' muscled arms through the first set. For a short moment.

(Inarguably, there was nothing in the world like a good ass to hold onto!)

He'd just sat down with a beer to catch the game, honestly, and ASICS had to go and pull that nonsense on him!

But funnily enough, Oikawa couldn't actually call anyone up at an international sportswear company and give them an ear for their sheer gall, so Iwaizumi was the next and most accessible target, being his live-in boyfriend and all.

 _He_  was the one who was supposed to come home _late_  on weeknights, so really he should have been still at _work_ nearly 45 minutes' commute away and not _walking through the front door_  while the TV was blasting and Oikawa had his hand down the front of his jeans.

"I'd ask if you were happy to see me, but I'm not sure all that's for me," a voice rang out from the tiny genkan in their duplex apartment.

Oikawa might have squawked, but he was not going to corroborate anyone's accusations, and anyway he was too busy snatching his hand from his briefs and falling onto the living room rug to argue about it in the first place. Narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the coffee table, he grabbed the remote and jammed his thumb down on it to try and flip the channel, but ended up notching the volume up five ticks.

When he finally flinched up to peer at his boyfriend, Iwa-chan was staring down at him from feet away, eyebrows not even close to his hairline like he wasn't surprised, just slightly arched in that _Yikes, Tooru_  way he had. His tongue was caught between his teeth like he was holding back the _meanest_  insult to Oikawa's intelligence as a big bouquet of flowers dangled at his side, giant yellow and orange petals looking a little sad upside-down.

Well, they were nearly right-side-up to Oikawa, who was still on the floor, glasses askew and jeans unbuttoned with his tight, dinosaur-patterned briefs exposing his half-hard dick to the world, to his shame, and to Iwa-chan.

"It's not what it looks like," he snapped just as Iwaizumi muttered, "I guess I know why they yell out, 'Honey, I'm home,' now."

A long pause followed, with Iwa-chan peering at the blaring television, and Oikawa peering up at him, before he continued, "I'm only sort of sure you weren't jerking it to a yoghurt commercial."

Oikawa nearly cricked his neck in time to watch a petite woman with a cup of peach yoghurt lick her spoon daintily, right before nailing a work interview on the screen. The wonders of dairy.

"Ew," Oikawa said definitively. "No."

"Get up so I can give you these flowers, pervert," Iwa-chan replied. Or didn't reply. Demanded.

Oikawa fell back onto the pilly rug, pressing his palms to his eyes to hide. "Can we redo this entire thing?"

"Not even a little bit," Iwa-chan said, and even if Oikawa had hiding behind his hands he could tell there was a smile threatening his boyfriend's stoic resolve.

Whatever. Oikawa could out-stubborn him any day.

He waited until his big, strong boyfriend grew too impatient to wait out Oikawa's drama and dropped the flowers on the couch, leaning down and grabbing him over his bare ankle. Even though this was clearly all Iwa-chan's fault for startling him Oikawa couldn't stay mad, when he uncomplainingly dragged Oikawa several inches across the rug, rucking up Oikawa's pullover, until his face was no longer hidden by the coffee table.

Oikawa peeked between his fingers, spotting Iwaizumi crouched in his work trousers and button-down, muscles pulling at the tailored, gray and black fabrics as he tilted his head and raised his hand to beckon him. With a groan, Oikawa stood, and Iwa-chan stood with him, and before Oikawa could say another word, the game came back on, cheers from the stands fuzzing out the speakers a little as they stared at each other.

"I see," said Iwa-chan, glancing over his shoulder probably to catch a play. He wasn't much better than Oikawa about volleyball, but maybe better about the uniforms.

"You do _not,_ " Oikawa retorted.

Iwaizumi looked back at him, launching another exasperated face at him as if Oikawa deserved it ( _his_  fault), and pulled him into a couple short kisses, as if it was any other day, their routine when either of them came home later than the other.

"Iwa-chan..." Oikawa sighed after the fifth kiss. A sweet one that made a small smacking noise when they parted.

"I was going to surprise you, you brat," Iwa-chan said against his lips. He leaned, bracing himself with an arm on Oikawa's waist, and picked up the flowers to knock them into Oikawa's chest.

There was no photographic evidence proving Oikawa was blushing, and therefore he most certainly was _not_  blushing at all.

"Well, next time, warn me!" Oikawa said, cheeks warm, but couldn't help but smile when Iwa-chan rolled his eyes and squashed the bouquet a little between their chests as he tilted his head up to kiss Oikawa again.

The flowers might be a little flat in the vase they put them in later, but Oikawa was too busy being distracted by Iwaizumi's delicious lips to care at the moment. Another thing he could _actually_  blame his boyfriend for! Sort of.

"Wanna cook together?" Iwa-chan asked after a few nice, slow kisses, loosening his tie as he walked around the couch toward the kitchen, eyes flicking to Oikawa’s still-open pants. "Or do you need to _take care of that_  first?"

***

Later, Oikawa divided his attention between reading the next chapter of the novel that had been at their bedside for four months and counting exactly how many times they'd walked in on each other masturbating since they were young. In all honesty, despite Oikawa's more... outgoing behavior, he was _pretty_  sure Iwa-chan had been caught more often, being an only child and one of those guys who wore headphones while rubbing one out, no matter what time of day it was.

He remembered at least three occasions where he'd come to the Iwaizumi house in the afternoon and his best friend was watching porn, the best time caught with his hand nearly vibrating in his pants until Oikawa shouted with surprise, sending both of them nearly toppling to the floor when Iwa-chan startled and lost balance in his desk chair.

Ah, the memories... and look at them now! Now, they could stick their hands down their pants and no one needed to be ashamed! Sort of! Getting turned on by clothing wasn't strange!

Fighting off a swoop of embarrassment that rose through his body like a gust of hot air, Oikawa turned the page of his book, unseeing.

At least Iwa-chan didn't really know what _exactly_  had got him riled up. Oikawa had stuck strictly to safe topics at dinner, like where they'd spend the holidays and when Iwa-chan was going to replace his ugly old running shoes.

He remembered another time just before they'd gotten together, in that weird liminal time where they cuddled _a lot_  but didn't talk about it, and Iwa-chan had got up in the middle of a movie and shut himself in the bathroom for ten minutes. Oikawa remembered with fondeness the seconds when he returned to the couch with an awkward, overly casual shuffle and a yawn, and tucked himself back under the blanket with damp hair and a flushed face and an intent stare at the screen like Oikawa didn't know, like Oikawa hadn't _heard_  the faint echoes of his gasps as he wrung himself out only feet away with a flimsy door between them.

Speaking of spending too much time in the bathroom, where was Iwa-chan?

Oikawa slapped his book back on the end table and wriggled himself further under the covers, pajama pants pulling tight as he shimmied down the bed. "Iwa-chan!"

Just like honey-I'm-home kisses, they had their routines, and Iwa's was usually to bathe in the evenings, being a night owl, and Oikawa's was to bathe in the mornings, being an early bird. But he never took more than ten minutes, even if he was shaving.

"Did you fall in the toilet? I'm getting lonely!"

"Uh." Iwaizumi's voice was muffled through the door. "Be there in a sec."

Oikawa entertained the idea that his boyfriend might actually be jerking it in the bathroom, but dismissed it quickly. What for? ...Revenge? He had Oikawa right _here!_  For revenge or pleasure -- or both!

The bathroom door slid open, and there Iwaizumi appeared, backlit by the yellow bathroom light. His hair was damp from showering and he tilted his head to the side like he was in one of his shy moods, dark-thick eyelashes curled over his cheeks as he lifted his arm and scratched at his nape. With his eyes, Oikawa followed a trickle of water from Iwa-chan's temple down his nicely corded neck to --

A turquoise, v-necked collar. Turquoise lines cut through crisp white from his neck to his underarms, one still raised behind him as he watched Oikawa watch him. His sleeve was pulled tight, _tight_  to his bulging bicep, and so was the stretch of the torso over the turquoise 4 emblazoned across his pectorals. Iwaizumi was impeccably muscled on any day of the week, but through the fabric of the jersey one could count his abs, could trace the line of his ribs, if one wanted to.

Oikawa wanted to.

The stripes on either side of the shirt ended abruptly at a thin strip of tanned skin, before a pulled-tight waistband in turquoise drew the eye to the _tiny_  athletic shorts, straining over his thighs, over his _bulge_  as he stood in the doorway.

"Is this my surprise, then?" Oikawa asked. His voice was a little gravelly, but he resisted clearing his throat.

Iwa-chan's face pinked under his gaze, but he dropped his arm and tugged the jersey down (to no avail) before going still, allowing Oikawa to look his fill.

Oikawa was a bottomless pit when it came to getting his fill of Iwa-chan.

"A new surprise. Or, uh -- an old one, I guess, when you think about it."

Oikawa felt his dick filling under the covers.

"Well, I'm surprised," Oikawa allowed, a little dazed as all the blood in his body travelled south.

"Surprised it fits?" asked Iwa-chan with that gruff little _huffing_  laugh of his, and wasn't that cute?

"Mm," Oikawa said. He flung the covers off, almost ready to approach and get a better look, but Iwa-chan moved closer, body shifting beautifully under the painted-on fabric. "It absolutely does _not_  fit."

Iwa-chan's face lost some of its shyness to something a little knowing, and he climbed into Oikawa's lap. "You think it's too tight?" he asked, as if they were casually trying on blazers at the department store.

"I'm not thinking at all right now," Oikawa said absently.

He lifted his hands to touch, and got a handful, each, of Iwaizumi's magnificent _butt_  over the tiny shorts. It was like he was wearing hot pants, the hem curving almost upward to accommodate his sheer muscle, and when Oikawa stroked his fingers over the bottoms he knew, if he checked, that his Iwa-chan's cheeks would almost be peeking out the bottom.

His dick filled almost violently, twitching in his thin, plaid pajamas, and he looked up at Iwa-chan with hazy eyes.

"Ready to play, captain?"

Oikawa groaned, pulling Iwa-chan down to the mattress, and they bounced a little on their landing. Iwa-chan kissed him silly, silly with kissing, while Oikawa tugged and pulled on the old uniform wherever he could grab ahold. Iwa-chan was bursting out of it practically -- an absolute, disgustingly attractive vision in Seijoh colors -- putting those national athletes to shame with his solidness and his appeal, and Oikawa found he wanted to rub all over him until they were sore with touching.

"Tooru, c'mon, rub one out on me, I know you want to," Iwaizumi growled out, and Oikawa gripped at his waist, nails digging into the muscle of his back, and stopped sucking on his earlobe.

"Don't tell me what to do," he said, automatic, but flipped Iwa-chan over so he could shove his pajamas down and hump against the pull of his shorts so excruciatingly perfect, full with his round butt.

"C'mon, Tooru," Iwa-chan groaned, and Oikawa fit his dick between his legs, the stretch of the tiny fabric _somehow_  giving a little in that magical way that athletic shorts did when he nudged his dick under the hem so fuck snugly into the sweat-hot spot between his legs. Gasping, he pulled Iwaizumi to him until they were plastered together from knees to shoulders, and he hooked his chin over his shoulder to lick kiss after kiss into his neck.

His Iwa-chan went shaky-wild under the sucking, biting wetness of his mouth, so much so that the curve of his back allowed Oikawa to sneak a hand underneath him. His erection strained the fabric so much, Oikawa almost didn't notice how wet it was, distracted and dumb with pleasure.

"Ungh, fuck, Haji -- "

"Tooru, Tooru," Iwa-chan ground out between pained gasps as Oikawa hooked his fingers around him through the fabric and jerked him through it, humping between his legs, fucking into the tight shorts of his kit, and wondering -- when he had the spare braincells -- what on earth he'd done to have someone this patient, this good to him -- "Coming!” Iwa-chan grit out. “I'm com -- "

Iwa-chan's back arched painfully as he came. Come pumped through the fabric to stick to Oikawa's knuckles as he felt the shorts pull _impossibly_  tight with Iwa-chan's tense muscles, and he choked out a sound of surprise as the feeling ripped his own orgasm right out of him.

He thoroughly messed up the inside of his boyfriends thighs, his balls, probably slick against his hole, but he didn't have time or thought to spend on that when he was so spent otherwise, and Iwa-chan was so completely dripping on either side anyway.

Oikawa collapsed on top of him with a loud, exhausted groan, and Iwa-chan replied with a soft rumble as he stretched like a cat under him and settled after pulling Oikawa's hands up to lace their fingers above them. His face was tilted to the side, eyes closed, so Oikawa pressed several small kisses to his damp temple before collapsing finally and tucking his nose into the crook of his shoulder.

"Love you," Oikawa whispered, muffled in the collar of his old team uniform, and received a sweet-quiet reply on a breath.

"How'd I play, captain?" Iwa-chan mumbled eventually, after their breathing slowed and their bodies cooled. His body jiggled with silent laughter when Oikawa snorted.

"Like a dream," Oikawa admitted eventually. "Like a literal, walking wetdream, Hajime."

"Mmh," said Iwaizumi, licking his lips after a moment, clearly pleased with himself. "Better than the yoghurt commercial, then?"

Oikawa squawked with dismay.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/byesweetheart_), [Tumblr](http://byesweetheart.tumblr.com/) or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/byesweetheart)!


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